


Deliverance

by waywarddreamer



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, I actually adore their dynamics, Light BDSM, Philippa in all her glory, Philippa is a treat to write, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarddreamer/pseuds/waywarddreamer
Summary: Loving Philippa is a balancing act, one that only Triss knows how to navigate.
Relationships: Philippa Eilhart/Triss Merigold
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> This might be my last work for the Witcher, for now, but I had a fun time writing these two. Thanks for reading!

The only sound that can be heard in the bedchamber is of a quill scribbling furiously against parchment. Philippa’s brows furrow in the flickering candlelight, the only trace of her inner turmoil. Triss always found the action adorable. The scribbling pauses right after her thought, before picking up again. A teasing smile slides its way up the mage’s face, one that she knows Philippa can see without looking. Triss allows her mind to wander, blocking out her surroundings in a way that she has taught herself over centuries in order to prevent impatience from taking hold of her, a bad trait for a sorceress.

Philippa’s intrigued, but not enough to take her attention off her current task. Triss doesn’t mind at all. She is a long way from the wide-eyed mage that used to be desperate to prove herself, aching to be seen. Triss knows her worth and she will drip it all over the sheets with or without her lover inside of her. She allows her hands to dip below the extravagant silks she is wearing, her fingers ghosting over the softness of her belly. They pause right at the soft skin above her belly button while she remembers times not so long ago.

The way Philippa lost control and took her in a garden, raising her dress up and exposing her thigh to the brisk air. Triss muffling herself on her lover’s neck to keep herself sane while the party continued inside. The rapid pace the older mage twisted her fingers to reach deep inside of her in a way Triss can never do herself.

A small moan falls out of her mouth upon remembering how Phillipa praises her. Telling her how pretty she looks while she touched herself, appraising her like Triss was a work of art, something worth stealing. The way she always asked Triss for permission to touch her(knowing she’ll never deny her), before tasting her with a sinister smile on her face.

Triss’s finger brushes against something warm and pulsing, and she moans at the familiar sensation of her clit.

“Come.” Philippa says, not turning to look at her.

The word is unusually soft-that’s how she knows the cadence hides the command, and yet Triss is still brave enough to take her time. Slowly takes her hand away from her entrance with an overly dramatic sigh, makes a show of getting up off the bed, her robe trailing after her. When she sits on Philippa’s thigh, she makes a point of grinding her wetness against her lover’s thigh.

A hand wraps its way around her hips to still her movement before Philippa continues working with nearly the same fervor as before. Triss focuses on the way her hand moves elegantly across the page, how seamlessly she dips the feather back into ink. Triss thinks about what her hands have been used for, the different ways Philippa has held her down, the way they had made her beg and they could be doing much more useful things than writing to ignorant kings or impatient allies.

Triss is half-tempted to take control like she always could. Her hand reaches, unhidden and unashamed, sliding up Philippa’s neck. Her own muscles tense as the mage finally makes her the center of attention, becoming captured in that black-heated gaze that always drives her wild. Triss could never really tell what’s swimming in those eyes of her. Triss plants a slight squeeze on Philippa’s neck before her hand rests on her chin.

Her thumb rubbing over painted lips, and pulling it down to reveal teeth, that should be sinking into her skin. A dark chuckle rumbles it’s way out of Philippa's mouth and that cocky grin shouts flutters right down to her spine.

Triss slides her hands down until they meet Philippa’s own, gently takes the iron grip off her thighs. Philippa’s body stills but she does not make an attempt to stop her, as she kneels in front of her. Triss rolls up her lover's dress, until she can see all of her. In the muted darkness Triss can see how ready she is, wetness glistening in the shadow. Triss is never one to waste time.

She places a gentle kiss on all of her, before her tongue slides right over her clit, and she moans as Philippa’s familiar taste fills her mouth. Triss prefers to take it slow, exploring every inch of her, like she’s a beginner again, back when she was so desperate to please, desperate to do right.

She takes her clit in her mouth and gently sucks on it, Philippa letting out a small groan at the action, her legs spreading even more. Triss moves down and allows a tongue to dart into her entrance, she grabs onto her hips and pulls her in closer, hearing the chair slide against the floor. Triss nips gently on her folds in the way Philippa likes, teasing and taunting as her tongue flicks her name methodically across her lover’s clit.

Triss allows one hand to drift down into her own swollen heat, begins to rub herself slowly again, enjoying the feeling of how wet she is. A hand tangles it’s way into her hair and she is pushed back against Philippa with a moan.

She moves her other hand downwards, her thumb replacing her tongue before she returns back to tasting her entrance. Philippa is throbbing against her mouth, and a smirk rises on her face, she wants all of her. She wants to see Philippa stain this chair she is in, Triss gathers some of her wetness on her fingers before placing them right at her entrance.

“Wait.”

Triss wants to protest but that's exactly what Philippa wants, to leave her begging to please her. Normally Triss would indulge her but not tonight, she has been patient enough. She does as Philippa commands, returning back to her position on her lap, locking eyes with her as she licks the last traces of her lover off her lips.

“It seems one of my spies might be getting a bit sloppy.” Philippa begins a little out of breath, although the disappointment is clear in her voice and it only serves to make Triss wetter. It reminds her of nights with bruised knees and purposeful fights just to get what she wants. “I might have to dispose of him.”

Even in the midst of her lust, she is always reminded of how capable this woman is of dark acts, and once she would have been spooked by the mere thought but not anymore.

“Would you like me to help?” Triss whispers darkly, speaking without permission. It comes out so sure that Triss almost believes herself, and finally the scribbling halts.

Philippa puts the feather down gently against the desk, pushes the parchment to the side and Triss knows that she’s in for it.

“You would, wouldn’t you,” she whispers, hands now beginning to roam freely across Triss’s thighs, more of a caress now, but just as teasing. “If I were to ask.”

She doesn’t give her a verbal reply but she hopes the flash of her teeth is enough, only Phillipa could make her hunger like this.

“Take it off.”

She allows the robe fall without complaint. A slight shiver runs through her, not from the cold air but from the predatory gaze that always seems to be lingering behind those hooded eyes. Her skin tingles as Philippa leans back in her chair, swallows her form inch by inch, painstakingly slow like she’s never seen it before. Her eyes lingering over the past marks from their other sessions that still paint her skin still aches if they are pressed too hard. Their eyes meet once again, before Philippa’s face breaks out in a haunting smile. Triss is picked up and slammed down against the desk before she can draw another breath, Philippaleaning over her with the darkest eyes she’s ever seen. Drowning in them, has never felt so good.

“Are you going to let me have you?”

Once again her tone is deceitful. It's not a question, but if she wants to phrase it like one, she could deny her.

But she knows not to push that boundary here, not when Philippa’s already so worked up.

"Yes." Triss says, before leaning in to kiss her lips. "Always." Philippa moans at the declaration. 

“Where do you want it?” she asks, always one to make Triss pick her own downfall. The mentor who lets you dive headfirst into your mistakes instead of making sure you avoid them.

“Bed.”

“Hm.”

Philippa parts her thighs on her desk, running a single finger up her wetness before she withdraws it and brings it up to Triss's lips, and without a word, Triss cleans it off, a daring gleam in her own eyes. 

Sometimes it surprises her how strong Philippa is, when she sweeps her up without any effort and practically throws her onto the bed. The sheets are so soft that she almost lets out an appreciative grunt before Philippa grabs her harshly by the ankle, pulling her right underneath her and pinning her against the sheets.

_Oh._

She’s fucked.

No matter how patient she claims to be, Philippa will always outlast her. She couldn’t even sense how angry she was.

“You’ve been such a brat lately.”

There’s more ire than disappointment in her words. Triss shrugs unable to deny the claim nor did she want to. She's sure Philippa has been privy to her thoughts this entire time, Triss made no effort to stop her from reading them. Philippa chuckles, before she flips her over, onto her stomach, and settles her in her lap.

Triss already knows she's going to get new bruises after this night, and she stares back at her, challenging but inquisitive.

A harsh slap resounds through the room as her palm hits her ass, and she yelps at the pain, before trying to crawl away. Philippa pulls on her ankle once more, a mirthful laugh coming from her. Another slap does not come but she rests her palms where the slap left a mark, pressing down and making her moan from the heat spreading through her skin. To say that she's wet is an understatement. Triss can feel herself pulsing between her now clenched thighs. Philippa’s nails dig into the curve of her ass as she pulls her to sit in front of her. Without warning, Philippa slides three fingers into her, fucking her slowly like she has all the time in the world.

Philippa is an amazing maestro especially when she’s inside her like this, always surprising her with a quick swipe or a new rhythm she rocks against her. Her other hand pulls on her hair, so that her neck is exposed, and harshly bites down to leave hickies that will last for weeks.

Triss whimpers at the combination of her fingers, and her tongue darting across her skin, her head thrown back against her lover's shoulder. Suddenly, Phillipa withdraws slowly and painfully leaving her right on the edge, her fingers soaked as they rest in between her thighs.

“Say my name.”

Feeling a bit prideful tonight, Triss bites her lip to stop the pleas from coming forth. Philippa tsks, and enters her once again at a relentless pace, lifting her hips up slightly until she hits the spot inside of her. Triss's orgasm is about to rush out of her in seconds, and Philippa denies her, letting her body come down from the edge before doing it again and again until Triss loses count.

At some point, she starts crying, and a smirk rises on her face. Triss’s eyes darken. She's tired of these games. Triss leans back to kiss her, like there was going to be no tomorrow. That when she woke up all that would be left of Philippa would be her name still whispered in fear by kings. For once Philippa is unprepared and as a result, loses control of her movement and Triss finally comes with one last thrust, harshly and suddenly around her fingers. Triss screams as the shockwaves spread throughout her body, nearly making her blackout, as she clenches around Philippa, and then she falls slack against her. 

She can feel Philippa’s gaze on her now, as she settles down on the sheets beneath her before she leaves to who knows where. It’s disappointment that builds in her upon realizing that Philippa’s not coming to bed yet. Triss is too tired to protest, after all she knows how her lover gets sometimes and Triss quickly submits to the haze of her afterglow.

-

Triss is awakened by a sharp, prickling pain to her thigh, crying out from the sensation, as her body arches away from it. Upon moving she realizes that her hands are tied by magic-imbued lace, delicate yet strong. Her body is set alight in anticipation as she finally looks down at the source.

Philippa, her hair swung to the side, writing something on the inside of her still cum-stained thigh. Upon focusing, Triss gasps once she sees Philippa’s name in ink, bright and bold against her skin, she can sense the magic running through it. The wetness dripping down her thigh already causes it to be smudged. The silence is deafening, as Philippa dashes the i's, and then finally looks up at her.

“Did I tell you to finish?”

Philippa never asks questions if she doesn’t already know the answer.

Triss shakes her head no, but her heartbeat races with anticipation, her mouth full of desire. Philippa joins her in the bed, lifting her hips up to meet her hand, rubbing on the softness of her lips.

Her two fingers drag slowly against her clit, Philippa smirking as Triss desperately tries to catch them before dipping inside of her as she stretches her once more. Every single thrust of her curled fingers, she was grinding her palm against her clit, she was helpless to stop the rough pace. The signature on her thigh tingled wonderfully. Triss couldn’t stop the moans falling out of her mouth if she wanted to, and she knows Philippa loves to hear her. Philippa’s seems to get even angrier at Triss's thoughts before she stops her ministrations suddenly.

“Don’t make any noise.”

Triss feels the familiar sensation of magic in the air. Philippa summons the device before sliding it on, and Triss fights the pleased smile on her face at the sight of her wearing the toy. It’s been some time since she’s been inside of her like that.

Philippa pins Triss down, and she can feel the weight of the phallus grinding against her clit, teasingly. Triss breathes, closes her eyes, and without warning, Philippa thrusts inside her. Triss throws her head back, at the sensation feeling herself stretch around the member. A strangled moan nearly escapes from her mouth before she catches herself. Philippa's heated gaze sends shivers running through her as she thrust even harder, her ink-stained hands squeezing around her hips hard enough to create bruises.

Triss feels so full, and yet she still wants more, always have. Her hips meet Philippa’s thrusts halfway before her thighs get pried open, and she’s pushed down fully against the bed. She realizes just how helpless she is, when she keeps her slow pace, looking her into the eye as the toy rubs her clit on the way out before Philippa thrusts back in, and she pulls at the bonds around her wrist, unable to break them. It’s torturous, but it feels amazing. Triss allows herself to let out a little whimper, blinking tears away, as Philippa’s eyes darken with lust. The older mage's hands run back down into the ink embedded there, permanent, bound by her magic until she decides to take it away. Her grip becomes almost possessive as she stares down at Triss with those black eyes that always seemed to hold her captive.

“Do you want more?”

Philippa already knows she can tell by that amused look on her face, always teasing. Triss knows her eyes are pleading for it, speaking for her at this point. “Yes,” she pleads desperately, her breath catching in her throat.

Philippa as always, eventually gives her what she wants.

Hard.

It takes everything in her to stop the gasp from sliding out her mouth as Philippa suddenly started fucking her without abandon. A scream is beating at the back of her throat, and she bites down on her lip until it begins to bleed. Philippa’s other hand is rubbing circles into her clit. Triss shakes, it’s too much at once, and she wants to let it out. There’s so much pent up energy, and it’s buzzing around her, unsatisfied, and it damn near hurts at the amount of pleasure to be forced to keep her sounds in. A tear slips down and Philippa smiles once again before she leans up to wipe it away. Philippa kisses her, her magic flowing through Triss's body, and she wants to melt completely into her touch.

“Say my name.”

“Philippa!” she cries, tears at the corners of her eyes as she finally is able to say how much she desires her. She begs for her, no longer too proud to call her name. It fuels Philippa in a way that only Triss knows about, upon hearing the jumbled praise that falls from her lips. All of the fight that was in Triss earlier, gone.

It’s one particular thrust does she send her over the edge, rubbing against that prized spot, and the laces untie themselves from her wrist. Triss grabs onto her for leverage as she cums around her. Philippa doesn’t pause at all, eyes still narrowed as she focused on fucking her.

The third time that Triss cums she finally stops. Philippa grunts above her, her own orgasm running it’s course through her body, before laying a gentle kiss on her lips, all that anger gone. The grip around her throat loosens as the toy falls off, and disappears to a place only Philippa really knows.

“Hurt?” Philippa asks, gently running a hand over her still shaking body.

Triss shakes her head no before Philippa finally extinguishes the candlelight, and the only thing they can hear is each other's still slightly unsteady breathing. Philippa buries her head into her neck and pulls her in closer, the two mages holding each other in the darkness. Triss’s thighs buried between Philippa’s own while the pulse of her lover’s signature still remains on her skin, now drifting from a sharp sting to warm and steady comfort.

Triss counts every breath until Phillipa falls asleep.

She gets flashes of memories, while her lover dreams, her powerful magic leaking out of her even in her sleep. Thoughts of Triss, and how much she loves her. Things that she would never show, never say out loud. Triss leans forward and presses a kiss against her forehead, who is resting in her arms, not dreaming about kings or coups but of her.

“Don’t worry,” Triss whispers, fondness dripping off her tongue. “It’ll be our little secret.”


End file.
